


'Twas the Night Before Christmas (Johnlock edition)

by CumberCurlyGirl



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, First Kiss, Johnlock - Freeform, Love Confessions, M/M, Top John Watson, parody of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 18:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16770838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CumberCurlyGirl/pseuds/CumberCurlyGirl
Summary: Somehow, I had the courage to read this poem aloud at a poetry cafe's open mic night. Poet after poet got up and read heavy, angsty, serious poetry about serious topics. Then it was my turn.  I told the audience I was going to read a poem about Sherlock Holmes. They were a mostly young, bohemian college-town bunch and they probably thought this middle-aged mom was gonna read something very tame. LOL, when the porn hit there was a collective gasp. It was awesome.





	'Twas the Night Before Christmas (Johnlock edition)

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the flat,

Sherlock chased John in his deerstalker hat.

John ran, and he dodged, shouting "I am NOT gay!"

In the vain hope his best-mate would see it his way.

Mrs Hudson was nestled all under her covers,

While above her the boys were about to be lovers.

And John in his red pants and Sherlock in his gown,

Made quite a sight as they raced ‘round and ‘round.

Sherlock cried, “Jawn let’s just try it, you’ll see.”

As he sprang over the table and knocked down the tree.

Away to the window, he flew like a flash;

Tore open the curtains and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Gave the lustre of midday to objects below.

Sherlock leaned through the window and yelled loud and strong,

“I don’t care who knows it; I love my sweet Jawn!”

Oh, those curls and those cheekbones, and eyes dazzling blue,

John knew at that moment that he felt it too.

Felt the love for this man he’d tried hard to suppress,

And he hummed, and he stuttered and then he confessed:

"Oh Sherlock, Oh Sherlock, how can life be so cruel?

I have been such an arse, such a git and a fool.

From your curly black hair to your legs oh so long,

I love you, I want you, I have all along."

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,

John rushed ‘cross the room and looked into his eyes.

Sherlock gazed at John Watson with naked desire,

As they stood there together in front of the fire.

And then in a twinkling, they moved to embrace,

Sherlock put his hands on each side of John’s face.

Their lips came together for their very first kiss,

Tongues intertwined and their hearts full of bliss.

“My soldier,” breathed Sherlock, “My one love, my rock.”

And he slid to his knees and pressed his mouth to John’s cock.

It was hard and erect, and John sighed and gasped “Oh!”

Sherlock pulled down the red pants and swallowed him whole.

His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples how merry,

He sucked, and he bobbed taking John down so very,

Deep, very deep, in his throat like a pro.

And John moaned, and he begged when his mate went too slow.

Then Sherlock let go, pulled John down to the rug,

Held him close to his chest in a desperate hug.

"I want you inside me," he said in John’s ear.

"It’s all I requested from Santa this year."

"Oh god yes," panted John, with lust he could not conceal,

And he laughed as he spoke, this was all so surreal.

With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Sherlock pulled lube from his pocket and led John to bed.

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,

Riding John’s cock he soon came with a jerk.

John moaned. Sherlock's arse was so tight and so hot!

And he came with a shout, like a cannon he shot.

“I love you,” “I love you,” to each other they said,

Then they cuddled together, snug and warm in the bed.

Sherlock kissed John as he held him so tight;

“Happy Christmas, my love, what a wonderful night.”

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow, I had the courage to read this poem aloud at a poetry cafe's open mic night. Poet after poet got up and read heavy, angsty, serious poetry about serious topics. Then it was my turn. I told the audience I was going to read a poem about Sherlock Holmes. They were a mostly young, bohemian college-town bunch and they probably thought this middle-aged mom was gonna read something very tame. LOL, when the porn hit there was a collective gasp. It was awesome.


End file.
